


Delirium

by codename



Category: ITZY (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24683002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codename/pseuds/codename
Summary: "No, no, no," Yeji says, recalling several moments in which she mourned over shredded pieces of cloth, "we don't do capes anymore."
Relationships: Choi Jisu | Lia/Shin Ryujin
Kudos: 14





	Delirium

“Done.”

Ryujin reclines back in her chair, staring at the ceiling with the accomplished look of a journalist. She didn’t need to turn around to know, exactly at that moment, Chaeryeong rolled her eyes. She presses ‘go’ on the printer, and takes a self-congratulatory spin on her swivel chair.

“The beauty of gossip. Right, Yuna?” The girl in question only hums, seemingly preoccupied with editing. And from Yuna’s insistence on having two monitors given to her, Ryujin can only sigh at the display of photoshop on one screen and google search: _nearest fast food restaurants in my area_ on the other.

For what it’s worth, she’s never regretted doing the hundreds of redrafts (no thanks to Chaeryeong’s pickiness), the hundreds of times convincing Chaeryeong and Yuna her gossip column did _not_ instigate a series of back-of-school rumbles, or the hundreds of times of watching the light, which hung on an exposed wire, slowly inch closer to the floor as she begged for an email to show up with an anonymous tip to write about.

And instead of futilely fighting back the ‘2018 Debate Team Captain, Lee Chaeryeong’, she figures she ought to be thankful for her selective generosity; forcing her to delete countless articles on things that _possibly_ might’ve been illegal to publish at the expense of her lecturing her every other second. (Sweet of her to save her from juvenile detention, Ryujin thinks.) Everytime they did fight, it was a sad scene only ever found in this room, so no one ever questioned how friendly they seemed out of it.

It’s harder on Yuna’s front, as school policy forbids her from taking unsuspecting photos of students without their permission—a rule that only began after Ryujin thought it’d be hilarious to make her first hot exposé on the freshly appointed Student Council President, which was, to spare the embarrassing details, Chaeryeong and a questionable shirt—so Yuna opts for free headshots masqueraded as a ‘nice gesture’, as Ryujin concluded they looked mug-shot-like enough to satisfy her vision. Unfortunately, they weren’t the star-studded paparazzi Ryujin promised they’d be when they first joined the club, but they were at least, teenage girls having the time of their life sharing the misfortune (and rare fortune) of others.

Ryujin grabs the last page from the printer, hastily shoving past the stacks of copies and earlier editions left on the desks to reach Chaeryeong, too busy filling in an itinerary to notice the writer scuttle up against her. She slides the sheet over nonchalantly, smoothing it over for her for good measure (though adding to Chaeryeong’s annoyance was not quite _‘good measure’_ ). If the newspaper club valued anything, it was the approval of their editor.

“ _Jeon Heejin, acclaimed senior and self-proclaimed it-girl. Admitted to having a scarily obvious affinity towards Kim Hyunjin, although details yet to be confirmed on the latter’s view. Apparently sleeps with a teddy-bear named Oscar._ Seriously, Ryujin?” Chaeryeong looks up at the girl, half-disbelief and half-shock buried within her eyes. Ryujin directs her chin forward in a swift motion, and Chaeryeong has no choice but to read the next victim along.

But first, she takes a deep breath in upon glancing at the first word.

“ _Blonde and gorgeous with the best voice in the music department. Rumoured favorability within the school due to half the dramas on major TV channels starring her mother, and well, beloved nation’s actress and all. Surprisingly, not much dirt. But she threw away her perfectly good pudding last week, and I find that particularly blasphemous_ ,” Chaeryeong double takes Ryujin, enough for her to take off her glasses. “This is what you write about?”

Ryujin can only shrug. “ _Please_ , that’s one of the boring ones.”

She flips a couple of pages over, revealing the headshots of the most popular girls at school. Chaeryeong briefly shakes her head, as if to wordlessly protest she is _not_ going to read any gossip on her two friends, and also at the evidence Ryujin is _still_ trying to trick people into getting their pictures taken, just so she can provide her articles with an authentic edge.

Her eyebrows furrow as Ryujin proudly points to the block of words surrounded by one too many exclamation marks. (A bit heavy on the eyes, Ryujin notes for next time.)

“ _Captain of the cheerleading squad and the reserved, talented artist. Romance tropes could never live up to their secret relationship,”_ Chaeryeong takes a breather, “this has got to be like—some next level invasion of privacy—a total breach of my moral code—”

Ryujin picks up where she left off promptly. “—Your crumbling moral code, might I add,” she coughs the last bits out, ending with, “ _Kwon Eunbi._ ”

Yes, Chaeryeong admits, exposing Eunbi for breaking up with her sister over text was a degree of petty she’ll never stoop down to ever again, but for the one week her sister spent treating her like royalty (she’ll never forget the _“oh, Chaeryeong, let me get that for you”_ s), the gratification was entirely worth it.

She always had a deep reminder stored in her head of how she’s practically revered by her student council for her composure (though she’s sure it only becomes apparent within school grounds), and Chaeryeong was glad her presidency primed her for this moment, to be completely unbreakable under Ryujin’s attempt to shatter her into a million pieces.

“I’ve put up with you exposing exam cheaters, because Ryujin, _God forbid_ people cheat our education system, but their love life? Unannounced ones at that?”

“Come on, they’re not even that bad this time.”

Chaeryeong does the exact look of ‘ _oh really?_ ’, flicking to a page that caught her attention earlier before stopping at a paragraph with a pointed finger. “You’re practically asking everyone to go kick this guy’s ass. That’s like, borderline harassment.”

Ryujin wants to respond with ‘he’s the creepy dude that hangs around the girls’ toilets’, but she supposes, yes, she’s probably right.

“Fine,” she relents, snatching the sheets off her desk, for she is well aware she wouldn’t come out alive if she were to continue. “I hate how you’re all legal.”

Just as Ryujin begrudgingly walks away from utter defeat, Yuna gasps. There’s a slow lift of her headphones off her ears as her eyes dart from every point on the horizon and sky.

Rain?

A rainstorm—a heavy one—suddenly making its appearance in the middle of summer called for at least some more concrete reasoning than climate change. Chaeryeong and Ryujin follow suit, joining Yuna at the edge of the window. A moment of staring and ‘letting-it-sink-in’ passes before someone speaks up.

“Never too late to replace your ‘Book recommendation of the day’ section with ‘Miraculous thunder storm brews over city’, right?”

“Let her preach literature, you monster,” Yuna starts accusingly, then focuses her attention on the grumble outside, and so Chaeryeong continues for her, “ _thank you_ , and besides, now is _not_ the time to pitch your ridiculous ideas—we’re practically at the beginnings of our very real and _very_ possible reckoning.”

“Possible reckoning.. _._ ” Ryujin repeats. This was an all too familiar scene, as in Chaeryeong thinking of the worst possible scenarios for events. Just last month, her obsessive concern over the school trip failing to go through because of funding concerns delved the whole council into shared panic, when in reality, her Treasurer accidentally subtracted 1000 instead of 100.

The chaos associated with that day, Ryujin nor Yuna would like to relive it.

“Yes, Ryujin, _possible reckoning,_ unless you have any other bright ideas?”

“Editor Lee,” Ryujin shakes jokingly, “you give me the shivers.”

Yuna sighs. “As fascinating as that exchange was, tell me… it’s July, right?”

Between the back and forth of bickering, Yuna says this ominously, her baffled exterior only making the two girls beside her more confused. No explanation running through their minds could make sense, and they were fully convinced the sun _was_ indeed shining only moments ago, and that it was not just a side-effect of their excessive intake of energy drinks, credited to Chaeryeong's tight publishing deadline. (Which was really a reserved slot at lunch to go take over the printing room that they fought over with the art club.) 

Though, in that time of Ryujin and Chaeryeong being hell-bent on figuring out a probable reason, Yuna hurriedly makes her way back to her computer. Being the youngest, she also happened to be the one that crumbled easily when things took a drastic, scary, unexpected turn. Like, the horror of Chaeryeong last minute changing the previous year’s festival theme from ‘the beach’ to ‘supernatural’, in which most the students turned up in neon shorts and tank tops and pool noodles, and the other unlucky ones decided to throw a white cloth over their heads and haphazardly cut two eye holes. She happened to be part of the latter. 

“They’re… they’re arguing. At a time like this,” there’s panic that crawls into her voice, from the way the sudden shakiness in her voice gets increasingly worse at every intake of breath. Yuna speaks up, addressing the both of them. “I’ll-I’ll get the news up.”

Chaeryeong hums, “Finally, someone with a brain around here,” she says, eyes glued on Ryujin, who was currently too preoccupied basking in the phenomenon to argue (though she’s sure this’ll come up in a future conflict).

Her eyes finally tear away from the window and the two older girls huddle round the screen.

**[WEATHER UPDATE] Warnings for 70mph winds initially covered much of Seoul but were later stood down. 79 flood warnings and 166 alerts across the country...**

Chaeryeong and Ryujin’s heads both turn to each other as they both elicit a scarily unified _‘ugh’_ , much to Yuna’s surprise.

“So what? Another way of announcing our impending doom?” Ryujin says impulsively, suddenly taken aback by how disgustingly _Chaeryeong_ she just sounded. There’s a stunned, singular giggle before she taps back into her senses, and she ends up storming off in the opposite direction.

“It’s not that bad,” Yuna attempts at reassuring her, but she flinches at Ryujin’s sharp scoff. “I mean, it’s just the rain. Right? The rain?”

Yuna’s ears are abruptly filled with another guttural exclamation.

“ _Right_ , it’s the end of the world and I’ll die in an old, hardly-refurbished storage room that we call our club space,” Chaeryeong tries to fashion a _‘we’re royally screwed’_ smile, while also pacing around the room like a panther in a pit trap, one arm on her hip like the mess she was at that moment, “with a dimwit and Yuna.”

Yuna rubs her temples, feebly trying not to succumb to her feeling of indignation, and the urge to sit them down like two kindergartners and force them to say what’s on their minds, because clearly, these past few weeks have driven them to breaking point. Ryujin equally tries to block out Chaeryeong who had just insulted her, plugging her ears with her fingers.

From deadlines to their final exams, to Chaeryeong being too busy with the council that the newspaper club ended up being Yuna and Ryujin’s hang-out while she was absent, and to Yuna being upset she has to endure endless squabbling, _yes_ , reaching breaking point seemed appropriate.

“Ryeong, come on. It’s rain,” Yuna reasons, watching Chaeryeong slowly sink back into her chair, “You will _not_ die from rain.”

“And when this room floods and we drown, what then?”

Yuna had no answer for that. Not because she had no idea what _what then_ entailed, but because she’s sure she’d go round in circles if she were to continue.

Anyone could feel the strange tension in the room (how they ended up _both_ going to collective breakdown is beyond her). The next few minutes are spent with Yuna ignoring she’s accompanied with two other people and watches the storm rage on, and said _two other people_ are at opposite ends of the room trying to _also_ ignore they’re with each other.

Yuna wonders if being surrounded by these two for the foreseeable future has made her partly delirious and partly exhausted out of her mind.

What she’s witnessing makes it seem true.

Because she’s sure the rain is lessening, and the thunder’s stopped.

She’s also sure the clouds just turned their usual white in a matter of seconds, and she’s _also_ sure no one else saw that but her.

The room also seems mirrored, but that’s just a random coincidence.

Their heads both glued to their desks with mumbles of low groans is only, by default, Ryujin and Chaeryeong getting tired of complaining, not another visual phenomenon Yuna has the disprivilege of experiencing.

Just as Yuna approaches Chaeryeong to inform her, there’s a knock.

And almost immediately, Yuna exclaims she’ll get it, and gingerly makes her way to the door.

Oh?

_Oh._

She expected another student.

Not two girls clad in a steely grey uniform.

“I…” Yuna croaks, eyes wide when she opens the door, shutting it just as fast. Her hands find themselves frozen in position, and she raises her voice, albeit as hushed as she could get it, in fear of said girls hearing.

“Not to add onto your...” Yuna takes a good look at the both of them, clearly distressed, “... _concern,_ but there’s two girls outside that door who are _definitely_ not from our school and—”

Just then, the door flies open.

Along with a shot of fire.

(Or two.)

And behind the smoke, the two girls Yuna’s _definitely_ afraid of, walk in.

Barely registering the sight, Ryujin ducks behind her desk. Chaeryeong’s eyebrows are on the verge of combining, and the taller intruder can only laugh, but swiftly returns to her blank expression.

“What did they say to do when you meet them?” She tilts her head towards the shorter girl, her face devoid of any movement until she speaks.

“Introduce yourself,” she says simply. 

Nodding, she pats down her uniform and the small ember on her sleeve. 

“Apologies for the long wait and the uh,” she heaves out, staring humiliated at the singed wall of posters, “...yeah,” she shuffles in place, adjusting the hem of her collar.

From Yuna’s intense staring, she couldn’t quite pinpoint the origin of the grey pants, white button up and grey fitted blazer, as well as their unusual gleam. Definitely not an in-city look, or something you’d find anywhere, for that matter.

“But, I’m Hwang Yeji, and this is Choi Jisu, or Lia—or whatever she’s in the mood for.”

(Jisu will remember that.)

“Yeah? And _I’m_ not in the mood. Who are you, exactly?” Chaeryeong says, and Yuna notices the slight tremble in her voice. She knew Chaeryeong had some formidable wall between her and everyone she met, that she wouldn’t back down when faced with something extremely unnerving. And when the ‘something extremely unnerving’ turns out to be the complete opposite—that’s a different story.

(Yeji is just that.)

She unexpectedly extends her arm, her palm inviting a handshake. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you _Not in the_ —”

Jisu’s hand finds itself around Yeji’s arm, forcing it back, “She’s just joking,” the embarrassment on her face doesn’t show, but _hell_ is it there, and Jisu nudges Yeji inconspicuously in the side and whispers an incoherent scolding, before she continues, “I know this may come as a shock—”

“—That’s one way to put it—”

“But we’re here for good reason—”

“— _You_ trashed our club room—”

“Like telling you about your powers.”

For the second time today, Yuna feels like crumbling. Ryujin finally appears from behind the desk and begins making her way towards the group. Chaeryeong rolls her eyes. 

“Look, I’m all for breaking news and y’know, _otherworldly_ stories to attract a readership, but barging into _our_ club room telling us we have powers? Who do you take me for?”

Yeji opens her mouth, but Jisu speaks up first. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“How unfortunate.”

As Chaeryeong slowly ignites her very own debate team spirit, Yeji lifts her hand, a dull glow forming as it turns into whips of blue light extending from her fingertips. It all happens in a matter of seconds: Yuna wondering if she truly is stuck in a dream, Chaeryeong rubbing her eyes in dramatic disbelief and Ryujin, who becomes inches away from Yeji's hand in awe.

Then a flame.

When it disappears, Yeji smiles bashfully. “I mean, that was a bit showy, but we’re telling the truth.”

Chaeryeong immediately nods, though not in agreement. “So, we really are at the end of the world.” 

Yeji raises an eyebrow with confusion, while Jisu’s hand finds its way to the back of her neck. This certainly wasn’t their first time doing this, but they hadn’t exactly met people who’d protest this much, (people being Chaeryeong). Most of the time (and Jisu remembers this as her favourite) they’d get drawn into some comic book fantasy and ask a gazillion questions. They’d just accept it, which made their whole job a little easier. 

Impatience—it comes far too quickly with Jisu. “Can’t you just try thinking a little more positively?” 

Chaeryeong trades a glare with the girl. “I am positive this is stupid.”

“You could be more cooperative, you know?”

“I could,” Chaeryeong smirks, “But I’d rather—”

Yuna jumps in between them, just as Chaeryeong lurches towards the shorter girl.

“Don’t listen to her. As crazy as this is, I can at least believe no human is capable of doing what _she_ did just now,” Yuna flashes an awkward smile at her, but she adds in an equally awkward, “It’s Yeji,” before Yuna ultimately decides to ignore it. “What I’m saying is—”

Jisu raises her hand. “—You believe I’m telling the truth but you’re still extremely skeptical as to why we’re here. You’re actually quite convinced.” Yuna stares at her like a doe faced with headlights, and Jisu takes her silence as a cue to carry on, “and Chaeryeong, on your left, is in such disbelief she has the gall to try and provoke me,” (Chaeryeong mutters under her breath snarkily, but still horrified), “Ryujin, on your right, well, you’re itching to ask me something, aren’t you?”

“Well. Yes. That.” Yuna blinks, turning towards the girl in question.

There’s a second of silence before—

“SUPERPOWERS!”

Ryujin finally bursts, as if she was holding it in. There’s a delayed wince a few seconds later, having realised, well, that is not the first thing she wanted to blurt out to them, and coughs her way into an amendment, “I mean—do you care to… reveal… the knowledge of the powers… gifted… to us?”

Yeji laughs. “That, unfortunately, we don’t know.”

“Then how do you know we even have any—”

“We know you _have_ them,” Jisu interrupts, “we’re only here so we can take you back to our school so we can figure that part out.”

Ryujin takes a cheerful hop over to the side where Yeji and Jisu are standing. “Well, c’mon, what are you guys waiting for?”

Yuna ends up giving in, but Chaeryeong—“this sounds like the start of a kidnapping story,” Chaeryeong folds her arms, but yields considering all things that have happened, “but fine, whatever, we’ll go. But if we end up dying that’s not on me.”

Yes, Chaeryeong thinks this is an absolute wreck of a day, and even more so they’ve now willingly accepted being transported to an unknown location. (It becomes even more clear to her that this is a very, very bad idea once she’s reminded she’s got some sort of know-it-all and a real-life Heatblast right next to her.) 

Yuna processes the scene of a concentrated ball of fire flying past her as they leave the room, unable to take note of her agape mouth.Yeji just happened to make her way to the top of Yuna’s ‘coolest people on Earth’ list, and well, she keeps the debate on whether Yeji was infact as otherworldly as Chaeryeong posited earlier on hold. Her attention turns to Jisu, no doubt taking note of her resting stoic face, almost as if she was always thinking about _something_.

“So,” Ryujin drawls as she takes the last corner before they arrive at their gymnasium, “that whole storm was you guys?”

“That’s confidential—”

“Trainee reacted badly to our serum,” Yeji cuts in, “powers went crazy.”

“—not anymore.”

Jisu sends the second nudge to Yeji that day, who reciprocates the pain. There’s a series of quick fire questions to which Yeji only has short answers for, and Jisu is _definitely_ tired of Ryujin babbling on, something Chaeryeong can finally agree with. 

The gym was noticeable. It had the same bright-orange doors for all the four entrances. Chaeryeong dangles her generously given student president keys, turning the lock with a sigh. This was _not_ what she was supposed to use her council powers for, though she figures that position became personally vain with how many violations were being carried out right that second; destruction of school property, unsupervised use of school facilities, all painfully ironed into her mind.

“We don’t have much time,” Jisu says assertively, recalling that they were supposed to arrive before the storm cast over their school, so she rushedly gathers everyone to hold hands in the centre circle of the marked basketball court. “Just try breathe, I don’t want any of you passing out on the way there,” Chaeryeong and Yuna exchange slightly concerned glances, but hold tight anyway, “And not that it applies to all of you, but I’m also sorry in advance.”

Light.

Sparks.

A little galactic space noise for good measure.

Then, poof.

-

**???**

For all the times that Ryujin spent wanting to know _everything_ about _everyone_ , she didn’t think it’d go as far as this.

Learning about the existence of superpowers, the huge facility presented before them, and the undeniable fact she had new powers to get accustomed to—which she is more than exalted to hear about, although unable to speak for her reluctant friends—she certainly did not expect to be the only one to need Jisu’s last-second apology.

“Could’ve had a warning on that,” Chaeryeong points a finger at the vomiting girl while also stifling a laugh (she wanted to save her death if Ryujin happened to have a superpower stronger than hers, though she settles on the idea that karma is real).

Yuna, however, is more than happy to showcase it. Her eyes dart back and forth, amused. Even minutes later Yuna is still fully engrossed by what now seems to be just a pitiful view of Ryujin.

“She’ll go craving some sort of ‘revenge’,” Yuna says through laughs.

Jisu and Chaeryeong both share a roll of their eyes, as Yeji signals that she’s ready. “Well, I told you I was sorry, didn’t I? Bring her in and we’ll give you a quick tour.”

The youngest, still half-laughing, half-trying to contain it by burying herself in her sleeve, helps Ryujin up to the doors. Chaeryeong grunts moodily before taking half the burden of a slightly out-of-it Ryujin, to where Jisu stood (somehow, already far ahead) in front of an unnecessarily tall, white marble statue. As it turns out, such places exist, and Yuna can’t help but stare in awe at the sheer size of it.

As Jisu waits, she scans the area to find the familiar face of her best friend, her eyes focusing on her.

_‘Do that initiation thing.’_

Yeji, already preoccupied with warding off what looks like an older student reprimanding her (“who told you to get back so late?”), manages to turn to Jisu and mouth _‘stop it’_ with a very real and very threatening flame appearing in her eyes.

_‘Make me.’_

She can faintly hear the conversation, and a few _‘are you listening to me?_ ’ and _‘pay attention, Yeji_ ’’s later, Jisu can see her visibly grumble, and Yeji makes her way towards her swiftly just before the group rejoins. 

“Seriously, in front of the seniors?”

“Deserved.”

Yeji tilts her head, her thoughts malfunctioning at the possibility of her fully _deserving_ to take the blame. They were instructed to get back before a certain time, and they didn’t. _Both_ of them.

“Don’t make me repeat what happened last summer, Jisu.”

Jisu shrugs, and Yeji resists the urge to set fire to her head, (and truthfully, such an extreme wouldn’t be the first time. She’ll never forget Jisu’s arguably hilarious attempt at proving to the council it was worthy of travelling back in time to get half her burnt hair back, “ _may I add_ , this was the fault of Hwang Yeji,” stays engraved).

Jisu rolls her eyes, registering the mental threat Yeji just made. “So you’ll do it?” She takes Yeji’s sharp turn towards the approaching group as a yes, and further satisfaction comes to her as, although Yeji was ranked one in the facility, she still fell victim to her mind tricks.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Jisu begins, addressing the girls before her, “like _literally,_ I guess. I know the statue is a little jarring, but it’s where it all starts.”

“If by jarring you mean the way it’s missing an arm and not how gigantic it is,” Chaeryeong lets go of Ryujin almost immediately to cross her arms, “then yes, completely.” Yuna would be laughing, if not for all her energy having to be focused on trying to keep Ryujin on her two feet, not knelt down at the mercy of her poor gag reflex.

“We’re currently recovering from last week’s attack, so this marble guy here is an amputee for the time being,” Yeji decides to add in, and Jisu inwardly sighs, “but you know, freakishly good timing recruiting you guys, don’t y’think?”

Chaeryeong does a mental double-take, her thoughts turning its focus to ‘attack’ and then ‘recruiting’ until ultimately deciding upon the former to dramatically yell. In turn, it jolts Ryujin back to some sort of vomit-less sobriety, though that’s a luxury only for a second as she instantly reacts to the sudden, alarmed screech of “ATTACK?!” from the girl next to her. The slap of Jisu’s palm meeting her forehead isn’t any quieter, and Yeji is quick to bluntly inform, “that’s just your friend, Ryujin. If we _were_ under attack, you’d hear at least several different announcements, our seniors running around the place and at least a half—which is about sixteen—of our sirens going off. So no need to worry.”

“Oh,” responds Ryujin stiltedly, a hand reaching for her temple in a feeble attempt to prevent her post-puke headache. “How very comforting.”

“Anyways,” Jisu interjects, only barely making her seething glare towards Yeji visible.

_‘Are you purposely screwing up this initiation process?’_

_‘Can’t you just not scare them off for once?’_

“No,” is Yeji’s response; it’s so confident that Jisu feels the heat off of her hands when Yeji pats her back, only adding onto her heavily over-flowing intolerance, and the three girls before them do nothing but stare blankly at Yeji’s prompt response to what seems like nothing, “but I do think it’s time for tours!”

Jisu reverts back to being calm and collected, and assents to Yeji’s proposal, “then afterwards we’ll take you to the south wing, where we’ll test you for your powers.”

Yeji isn’t done, and of course, she doesn’t let Jisu off so easily. “Great! I’ll take Chaeryeong and Yuna, and you can show vomit-girl around.”

And while the older girl is busy hurriedly grabbing the hands of the girls she’s suddenly claimed, Jisu feels her mind’s ‘Patience With Yeji Meter’ go beyond its capacity. She chooses to ignore Ryujin’s sudden chime into her train of thought (“looks like it’s just me and you”), and starts to truly realise Yeji really might not make it to the end of the day.

Nevertheless, she still had a job. She wouldn’t want her first day here to be ruined by a tour guide that would rather be committing a murder, so Ryujin gets her spare patience she’s had to pluck out from the depths of hell for.

“Yes, just me and you,” Jisu says through her teeth, “I truly hope you don’t vomit anymore.” 

“That I can—” Ryujin covers her mouth, and Jisu takes a good precautionary step back in disgust, though when Ryujin laughs she can’t help but feel like a carbon-copy of her worst nightmare has just materialised before her, “Just joking. I think I managed to swallow the last bits of it down.”

This was going to be a very, _very_ long day.

-

Jisu wasn’t sure how, but she managed to make it to the latter stages of the tour without calling it a day or handing Ryujin a map of the facility for her to fend on her own.

“...and that’s the west wing; basically just our accommodation. Do you have any questions?” Jisu shakes her head at the instant insert of the mandatory ‘do you have any questions?’, and she can’t help it having done _hundreds_ of these tours before, because she’s definitely sure Ryujin has a million of them waiting to be answered. “Actually, just ask me one.”

Ryujin, surprisingly, thinks hard. “You said at the beginning, _it’s where it all starts?_ ”

Jisu raises a brow quizzically soon after—that _wasn’t_ the first question she thought of. She shouldn’t be letting herself hear Ryujin’s thoughts, but even her own power goes amok. She’s heard countless things she shouldn’t have. There’s a moment of deliberation in her own head if she should bring it up, but she decides to let it pass.

“That statue is our school principal’s great grandfather, our founder. And mind, his power let him live a very long time, so this school’s about a thousand or so years old. Our current principal,” Jisu directs her to one of the paintings on the wall of a female in a navy-blue uniform, “is Eunji. We don’t use Professor or Miss around here, so feel free to call everyone by their name.” 

“So, I can call you Jisu?”

“Lia is fine.”

Jisu practically cringes at the sight of her, “But you said…”

“Lia is _fine_ ,” not-Jisu says, miffed at Ryujin’s insistence that she abruptly walks down the hallway as she follows.

“Then, how about this? You can call me Ryujin.” Her smile speaks far more than her words, that she is hopelessly pleading for Jisu to open up to her sucky attempt at friendship. That, Jisu doesn’t quite grasp, and takes it for Ryujin being incredibly annoying.

“Well, duh, unless you have any other name,” Jisu replies almost immediately, and at that second Jisu raises her finger, points it to a door labelled ‘417’ and proclaims it her room. Though, it’s not a proclamation that’s exactly exciting, for Jisu tentatively hands her a card with ‘Choi Jisu’ written on it, and then the realisation hits.

“This is yours?” 

“Great, you can read,” Jisu nods, barely missing shoving her into a door as she swipes her other card at the same time, and she ushers her into the room with such haste Ryujin almost trips over, “now, don’t misunderstand this.”

“I mean, I’m flattered—”

Jisu raises a hand, almost as if to knock the side of Ryujin’s head as she watches the girl bashfully rub the nape of her neck, but she poises herself, letting it fall slowly down to her side in disgust, “—No, I mean, whatever you’re thinking, _just no_ . I only pushed you in here since I didn’t want anyone to see me, you know, _being_ next to you.”

“Hold on, what’s that supposed to mean?” Ryujin asks, having only really taken in the latter parts while soaking in Jisu’s lack of decoration.

“You’ve gained quite the reputation as the girl who puked,” Jisu’s lips curve ever so slightly before she continues, “But that’s besides the point. Some of our accomodation is still under repair, and we don’t exactly want you sleeping where you’re not safe or you’re at risk of being under attack. So a few of us offered to room with the rookies for tonight.”

“And you chose me? I mean, _really_ , it’s flattering—”

“Random,” Jisu attempts to explain, but Ryujin gives her the eye of doubt, “It’s random. We drew straws. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Ryujin clutches her chest, laying her free hand on Jisu’s shoulder dramatically, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“Shin Ryujin, I can assure you that whatever you’re thinking of is untrue, and _please_ don’t touch me—”

Jisu considers a few scenarios. One of them being that she’ll expose Ryujin’s thoughts being the complete opposite of what she was currently displaying, as in, she’s currently trying to keep her mental state from collapsing by acting extremely confident and in the older girl’s eyes, weird. 

Except, none of that is bound to happen, not when Yeji opens the door with Chaeryeong and Yuna behind her.

“Touch? Getting comfortable already,” says Yeji, and a million violent thoughts swim into Jisu’s head that second, and before she can fully explain herself and throw her mandatory subtle threats at Yeji, she continues, “anyways, powers time. I’ll meet you in the south wing.”

She can hear the snickering of Yuna as Yeji leads them out the door like they’ve just discovered gold, and Jisu makes sure to shoot Ryujin a glare before she drags her out the room with her. 

‘ _You’re done, Hwang Yeji. So done.’_

-

“Oh,” Ryujin feels Jisu approaching beside her, and it slips, “this doesn’t look so good.”

Jisu’s caught by surprise, but she’s supposes she’s not all wrong, “It’s intimidating, right?”

She’s right, actually. The amount of white and silver that took up the room felt nothing short of some government facility that was the opposite of the comfort of Ryujin’s bedroom back home, or anywhere, in fact. 

Ryujin takes the pile of clothes handed to her, eyebrows furrowing. “Was that supposed to reassure me?”

Yuna and Chaeryeong are also handed their clothes by Jisu, who tries her best to give a convincing smile. She's been through this as well, and it wasn’t the most pleasant experience. “I’m not very good at that,” Jisu admits, though she doesn’t seem all too sorry for it. Their conversation (and the bickering beside them) is cut short by Yeji’s swift clap. 

“A word of advice, you won’t die, so remember that,” the latter parts of the ‘advice’ are said in a hushed voice, and Jisu adds onto her mental list that Yeji needs to stop hitting them straight with no warning, “you’ll be put into different rooms, then you’ll experience different stimulus based on the readings we get from your brain. It’s what should force you to use your powers.”

The lack of response doesn’t falter Yeji, instead, it makes her smile. Jisu tries to reciprocate the smile in a less-menacing way, handing Ryujin the last pieces of equipment. She also tries to ignore the unceremoniously timed announcement that Yeji is ‘ _so excited for this_ ’, which prompts all of them to exchange glances of fear as she exits the room. 

Jisu coughs, breaking up the group’s tittering. “Just, ignore her. Not her advice—she’s actually right this time. What she means by that is that you’ll _feel_ like you’re dying, and it’s all feeling, nothing more. I don’t want any of you to go through it twice because you couldn’t get it the first time.”

Yuna, Chaeryeong and Ryujin all look at each other with the same expression, as in: _absolutely_ mortified. This, of course, explains the carefree tour to set them up for inevitable breakdown and suffering upon hearing about _this_ part of initiation. And it only turns into some sort of freak horror show when Jisu hits them with the “who would like to go first?” and Ryujin’s immediately smacked with the thought of yes, she’s the oldest by mere months, and yes, Yuna and Chaeryeong _are_ eyeing her up and the probability of her going first is absolutely 100% when Jisu catches on.

“So Ryujin?” Jisu asks, though she knows it’s not up for debate.

Yuna turns apologetically as she watches Ryujin walk past her, an air of pity that suddenly follows her as she does so, and Jisu gives her an awkward pat on the back, not for reassurance (because Ryujin got the memo she’s absolutely terrible at it), but to edge her closer towards the door that led to the room they could see through the window; walls, ceiling and floor covered in a protective white covering.

“Imagine, we’d be finishing up the newspaper right now and I’d spend ten minutes bickering with the art club that absolutely no one wants to buy their prints,” Chaeryeong throws the idea into the air, swallowing when she sees Ryujin stand center, and even Yuna gets nervous and adds, “You’re making the newspaper seem a lot nicer than this right now.”

Jisu takes a seat at the control panel and motions for them to sit beside her. “Want me to explain what I’m doing or… would you like to stay sane?”

Yuna blinks at her with wide eyes. “You’re… testing her?”

“Idiot,” Chaeryeong says, and turns her attention to Jisu, “What are you gonna do?”

 _‘So, insane.’_ Jisu sits with a befuddled expression, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. She tells them, well, _because they asked,_ and it’s something along the lines of ‘fears’, the only thing Chaeryeong is able to register before she goes into shutdown (Jisu did warn them), and Yuna grimaces at the thought of it. 

At the same time, Ryujin takes a sharp breath in.

-

Jisu is not a morning person.

 _After-experiencing-everyone's-fears-during-their-initiation_ mornings specifically.

And, after spending the night with a very traumatised Ryujin who ended up sleepwalking and never returned, she accepted that mornings would never be her thing.

So when she eyes Yeji running up from the hallway, she ought to just turn around and quickly walk in the opposite direction, dodging whatever nuisance she’d get herself into. (Again, not everything seems to go her way.) She feels the hand latch onto her arm, and Jisu tries to wiggle her way out of hell but to no avail, so she speeds up her pace instead.

“Good morning to you too, Yeji.”

“Good morning to you too, Yeji,” Yeji mimics childishly, her eyes locked onto the exterior of Jisu who would rather be anywhere but there. “How was last night?”

Jisu takes a sharp turn left towards the cafeteria that almost knocks Yeji into the corner, but of course, she didn’t expect any less from her when she narrowly avoids it by hurling herself towards safety. “And what are the benefits of telling you?”

“Oh come on, you’re telling me your robot reports aren’t the highlight of your day?”

“ _Robot reports?_ —” Jisu scoffs, this time successfully shoving Yeji off her arm, “They should be making their way here for breakfast, anyway. Go ask them yourself.”

Yeji pouts as they enter the cafeteria, sitting down at their usual spot. “Mm. And let me tell them how boring they sound because they’re not you.”

“I almost forgot it’s your life mission to annoy me,” Jisu rests her chin on her hand. “Now what do you want to know anyway?”

“About them,” Yeji says just as she motions Chaeryeong, Yuna and Ryujin to their table. Jisu isn’t sure if dying twice is a possibility, but in Yeji’s case, she’ll make it happen.

“About us?” Chaeryeong sits next to Yeji, puzzled. “What about us?”

“Your superhero outfits.”

When Jisu jokes about costumes, she didn’t expect them to be so giddy. “No, no, no,” Yeji says, recalling several moments in which she mourned over shredded pieces of cloth, “we don’t do capes anymore. What she means is, I haven’t checked our student logs yet, so I’m not updated on your powers. I want Lia to tell us all about you guys.”

“We’re right here, we can tell you oursel—” Yeji shushes her with a finger to her mouth, ignoring the muffled protests from the younger girl. Her free hand gestures politely before she presses on her request, “Choi Jisu, if you will.”

No excuse seemed good enough to combat Yeji’s insistence, so Jisu does it anyway. In some form or another, it was going to happen. “Well, Yuna’s was pretty easy to get,” Jisu quickly sneaks a peak at Yeji’s expression, moving the fork over her plate idly as she validated her reaction, “Hers was over in a few minutes.”

“Speed, isn’t it?” Yeji finishes for her, slouching back into her chair with a depleted huff. 

“Yes, that, and electricity flows through her veins—why are you so disappointed?” Jisu eyes the pout on Yeji’s face, and Yuna also darts a bewildered look at the other girls in response.

“Nothing, go on,” Yeji says through a laugh, sliding over her glass of orange juice to Yuna as a peace offering.

“Right, Chaeryeong managed the test well. I think we classified it as some sort of shape-shifting, because she turned into Ryujin and well, I got confused, because Ryujin number one was in the room and Ryujin number two was right next to me and—”

“Hold on, did you just call me Ryujin number two?” Ryujin, the real, _actual_ Ryujin tries to add, but Jisu acts like she doesn’t hear it, “—well, I’m going off on a tangent. Yes, Chaeryeong can shape-shift.” The end is rather blunt as Yeji nods, somewhat surprised and more impressed than after Yuna’s power being announced, and Yuna is graciously downing the orange juice anyway as Ryujin carefully surveys the participants around the table and the fact that yes, injustice against Ryujin _does_ go unnoticed.

Jisu tries to come to terms with the fact that now, due to all natural laws of conversational nature, she has to talk about Ryujin. And her thoughts going into a muddle goes against everything she has ever told herself, to keep her composure, and to not falter, at the thought of _Shin Ryujin_ no less, and well, that all goes downhill when—

“Um. Are you in there?” Ryujin says quietly in an attempt not to startle her, but it does everything but that—she somehow still forgets Jisu has some sort of hawk hearing separate to her mind-reading, and thus, quietly seemed redundant—and then, Jisu’s eyes fly wide open enough, it startles her instead.

“Yes, yes, where—uh, where were we?” Jisu stammers (not even the rowdiness of the cafeteria manages to mask it) and she straightens out her uniform trying to be nonchalant, ultimately failing when she realises Ryujin’s questioning glare is focused very much on her.

Yeji places her fork down amongst her share of the plates, “About eight servings of waffles and pancakes ahead, Lia. Did you space out?”

Having seemingly recollected herself, Jisu takes a bite of her untouched, cold food. “Right, maybe. Probably. Most likely.”

Then the bell.

A life saviour.

_‘Yeji, we need to talk later.’_

-

The spectator booth for their gym was mainly used for official sparring matches, mainly to do with training. There was an annual championship that, if they won, granted them a free-pass to the city for the famous superhero trope of ‘fighting crime’ or, tagging along with the actual ‘superheroes’ on their work, which seemed more fitting. Other times, it was used for when teachers wanted to supervise, or in this case, Yeji and Jisu overseeing the new recruits.

Yeji joins Jisu’s side, pointing to something in this distance. 

“She’s terrible, isn’t she?” and Jisu realises her finger could only be directed to the blue-haired girl currently struggling against basic combat moves, and she sighs, though not loud enough for Yeji to hear, shamefully agreeing.

“I mean, it’s not like I was the best when I first joined either, she’ll get better.” There’s a moment of silence that follows, and Jisu’s not sure if it’s due to the conversation having no way forward or if simply, Yeji is rendered speechless by God knows what assumption, that Jisu is almost fully sure she’s about to make, so she takes a step to the side before Yeji inevitably—

“ARE YOU DEFENDING HER?” Jisu blinks in somewhat disbelief, even if she had predicted such misfortune to occur. There’s a vaguely disgusted face from Yeji before she too, blinks in disbelief at the monster shriek she had just let out (Jisu thanks their sound-proof walls everyday) and she repeats it in a less ear-piercing volume, “Jisu, are you defending her?!”

Sighing, Jisu preps herself for the challenge that was explaining anything to Yeji, “No, I’m being nice. Sometimes I realise I’m a little too harsh.”

“Wow... look what a little human interaction does to you. You’re a new woman,” Yeji says through laughs, going through possible compliments she’ll hear in the future in her head, “but she’s still bad.” Jisu can’t deny that one, and the more she watches Ryujin struggle amongst Chaeryeong and Yuna handling it just fine; well, she sticks out like a sore thumb.

“Sure, if a little human interaction was all it took, what does that make you?” Jisu quips, trying not to laugh at Yeji’s face of disapproval, which then turns into what Jisu can only figure out to be her pre-insult, so she lays out her hand in an attempt to prevent Yeji’s dramatic rant, “Look, we’ll do your little prank.”

Yeji’s eyes light up. “You mean teleporting in front of these twerps unsuspectedly as I simultaneously light us on fire so it looks like we arrived from the depths of hell?” Her hand latches onto Jisu’s excitedly, and Jisu carries on just as animatedly, “Yes, while I simultaneously remind you that our gym and myself, are _still not_ Yeji proof.”

“Right, right—what is it that you wanted to tell me earlier anyway?”

Jisu leads her to kneel, focusing her energy on the location with her eyes closed, “Back in the cafeteria?” Jisu feels the nod being substituted with the shaking of her hand, and she whispers, “It’s about Ryujin. It’s normal for me to see in the future, you know I’ve seen yours,” (“and the fascinatingly luxurious life I live,” Yeji adds), “but Ryujin’s was different. It wasn’t just a few years ahead. It was the end.”

“What, like, her death?”

Jisu nods.

“You’re kidding, right?” Yeji deliberates, “You only see deaths if their death is actually _close_ , and by close we’re talking by a couple of months, right? It’s just a malfunction?”

Just as she finishes, the glow of what Yeji likes to call _time goo_ materialises around them, and Jisu barely juggles her response and her focus on her power as she listens. “My power isn’t a machine, Yeji.”

And while Yeji groans in disbelief, the spectator room turns into the gym walls, and it’s only timely for Yeji’s delayed response of “you’ve got to be kidding?” to be said amongst the squeal of Chaeryeong and Yuna, who only squeals in response to Chaeryeong jumping in her direction, and Ryujin’s panicked fall to the ground as all three pairs of eyes latch onto them.

“Damn it, couldn’t even get the fire.”

“Sorry about that, this wasn’t my idea,” Jisu recovers, nudging Yeji in the side, “how’s training?”

“For a split second, terrifyingly,” Chaeryeong appears from behind Yuna, loosening her grip on her shoulders, “but now, we’re good. Everything’s going great.” Despite Chaeryeong’s declaration that they are indeed fine, Jisu and Yeji watch as Ryujin gingerly makes her way off her feet post-scare, hands still in a defensive position, “Yep, we’re all good here,” is all she says after the anticipation that grew over a mere ten seconds, and anyone could feel the fake confidence ooze from every word, and thankfully, Yuna is first to admit that, no, they aren’t _good_ , with a scandalized glare at the two girls.

“I don’t know what they’re thinking, but we could use a hand.” Besides, Yuna would rather let her pride be hurt than watch her two friends make a fool of themselves in front of other trainees in the process (plus, to avoid accidentally walking into a full shot of someone’s powers), and she would rather not spend her time devising a ‘ _Chaeryeong and Ryujin Safety Plan’_ inside her head.

Jisu can feel another one of Yeji’s devilish plans incoming, so speaks before she can open her mouth. “We’ll teach you. What are you struggling with?”

“Yuna’s having trouble _not_ electrocuting everything she touches,” Chaeryeong’s bundle of fried hair on the floor says enough, “and I’m having trouble shifting fully.”

Yeji and Jisu look at Ryujin, who coughs. “Everything.”

“Sorry? I didn’t quite hear that.” Yeji says, though Jisu’s not sure if she’s just mocking her.

“Everything,” she repeats, but this time only a fraction of a volume louder.

“Yeji, give it up,” Jisu butts in, and Yeji tries her hardest to feign her innocence when she shrugs, “We’ll do a standard drill, let’s get in a line.”

In Jisu’s eyes, mentoring wasn’t supposed to be this hard, even if four shirts and three hours later, Yeji isn’t sure if anything’s changed, but Ryujin can finally dodge her fireball without singing her shirt, and that’s good enough for her. Chaeryeong has got the hang of shifting, (though the point at which she became half-feline was something they’d never like to witness again) and Yuna’s a quick learner, judging from the fact the power only went out once during their whole session (at the expense of their back-up generator). They suppose, well, the negatives aren’t something to dwell on.

As they finish up, Jisu clears her throat.

“Ideally, you weren’t supposed to stay overnight, we’ve had problems with parents filing missing persons reports in the real world because we’ve had them here. Though, I think you had a cover, right?”

“Chaeryeong and Yuna were at a sleepover at my house, and don’t worry, I live with my sister, and she couldn’t care less where I was,” Ryujin responds, and Jisu forces a smile.

“I see, well... we usually ask students like you to come after school to train, but Eunji’s suspended classes for the foreseeable future until she thinks it's safe,” Jisu pauses to see their reaction but it’s nothing but blank faces, so she continues, “and, actually, it’s a good thing. Whatever attacked our school came from humans, so it’s best if we all make it back to scout it out.”

Chaeryeong senses a catch. “You’re both smiling. That’s weird.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Yeji contemplates, “but yes, there’s something. The thing is, this place is all I know, unlike everyone else. Jisu came here when she was seven with her younger brother. Technically, we don’t have any family out there.”

“And we’re supposed to care—”

“You need a place to stay?” Yuna says, her hand covering Chaeryeong’s mouth.

Instantly relieved, Yeji’s tight expression relaxes. Chaeryeong finally manages to tear away Yuna’s hand from her mouth and huffs as she watches Ryujin open hers—to propose something ridiculous, she can only assume.

“How about… you can stay in Chaeryeong’s place—”

(Ridiculous seems like an understatement.)

“—Are you out of your mind?” Chaeryeong interrupts, crossing her arms as she tries to stick her glare onto Ryujin, her eyes shifting from the girls in question and the girl she’s about to murder. Chaeryeong’s house was, undeniably, the largest of the three, but only at the luxury of her sister moving out leaving an empty room.

“Can you not go student president on me?” Ryujin says through the corner of her mouth, trying to make their obvious deliberation unobvious to the two girls in front of them. “I know you use that tone on the freshmans in the council, it’s weird,” she continues, this time replacing an ‘excuse me’ for a short smile as she turns Chaeryeong around with her, “and honestly, this is besides the point. They let us room with them, think of it as a way of paying them back.”

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, watching as Yuna also huddles with them. “If I paid back everyone I loaned from in the student council, I wouldn’t _be_ student president,” she adds, nodding at Yuna for approval, (who eventually nods along, though she’s 99% sure she doesn’t know exactly what she’s validating). 

“Don’t you have a spare room, Ryujin?” Yuna says loudly as she peers over their heads to Yeji and Jisu, who she suspects have heard most of their conversation already. Ryujin’s home itself is not particularly large, but it’s enough for her and her sister. 

At Yuna’s prompting, Yeji steps forward, forcing Jisu to abandon her untied laces. “Right, if you don’t mind,” her gaze sweeps across their faces, though she doesn’t look so pitiful as she is threatening. “I’m not that messy, and I won’t be indoors for that long. Though, I can’t say the same for Jisu.”

 _‘If you don’t stop appealing to Chaeryeong, I’m going to personally_ —’

Jisu’s thoughts are swiftly stopped by an eager Chaeryeong who, in her defense very much values her self-upkeep, practically froths at Yeji’s statement. She can’t help it, even if Jisu finds herself in her umpteenth defeat upon seeing Ryujin’s willing face, beaten out by Chaeryeong’s timing.

“Perfect. As long as you don’t interrupt my homework hours, you can stay with me. I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind, they know there’s a student exchange program soon.” This was far from perfect, the drawl of Chaeryeong’s terms and conditions were forcibly muted from Jisu’s mind, and since all prospects of Yuna offering her house were shot down as she witnessed her exchange a glance towards Yeji, who tried her best to cough out her laugh, the world seemed anything but cooperative.

“Seriously?” Jisu half-shouts, yanking everyone but Chaeryeong and Yeji back into reality. She finally locks eyes with Ryujin who pitifully latches onto Yuna, smiling. Thankfully, Yuna prided herself in easing down tensions, her presence itself helping.

“Ryujin’s house isn’t that bad, I mean, I’ve been there three times and all those times,” Yuna pauses for a second, Ryujin urging her to think of something with a tiny pinch, “all those times the house smelled… _nice_ , you know. Wonderful aroma. Lovely scent.”

Jisu swears she’s lost all feeling in her legs, but she still stands. In truth, the smell itself was the least of her worries. In fact, the person itself was. “I _love_ that,” Jisu manages, a hand on the wall for her much needed emotional and physical support, nothing but that able to quell the sudden rush of misfortune dawning upon her that second. 

‘ _Do you mind giving me a tour this time?’_

It’s better to say it through thoughts, she thinks, she doesn’t need Yuna egging her on for such nice words, despite her practically seething demeanour and the metaphorical steam coming off her head. So, she directs this to Ryujin, who does nothing but smile.

-

“Hi.”

Ryujin taps the car door this time, waving at a barely awoken Jisu. Given that Jisu was exhausted, teleportation wasn’t exactly ideal. And well, neither was fishing out the old truck from outside the facility and forcing Yuna to reboot it, but it was one of the easiest, albeit longest, ways to get back. Jisu’s eyes open, and she immediately sits up when Ryujin opens the door.

“I didn’t know Yeji could drive,” she says, reaching over Jisu to grab her bags for her, “I mean, I’m not saying she’s the best driver either.” Jisu nods, barely registering the conversation. Her habit of spacing out randomly, or sleeping in this case, became extremely apparent.

Jisu steps out, taking in the view. It had been a few years since she properly explored the city, having spent most of her time back at the facility and only going out when she absolutely needed to (read: forced out by Yeji on what she liked to call ‘excursions’). Even then, it didn’t seem to be different from what she already knew.

Before Ryujin takes another bag, she offers to carry it first. “Where are the others?”

“Ah, right,” Ryujin’s finger wavers over the horizon, before pointing to where she assumes is the right direction, “Chaeryeong lives further down the road, and Yuna lives even further away from us, so they left earlier. Yeji left the truck here to go settle in.” The neighbourhood was typical, but not too normal. Jisu felt the sense of homeliness, but she figures it's only because she’s never really been in such a place for more than a few minutes before wanting to go back. Home was a small grey room, her bed, a wardrobe and a bathroom. Maybe a lit candle too, if she felt like using Yeji’s birthday gifts that accumulated over the years. 

“You know, you travel light,” Ryujin attempts, talking from the doorstep as Jisu passes by the gate, her eyes elsewhere. “Do you not own a lot of things?”

Truthfully, a lot of things were on Jisu’s mind. She wasn’t opposed to change, but she never really wanted to move out either. She knew it was temporary, but even the slightest change of atmosphere was unsettling, even more so with Ryujin. The thought of what she saw lingered for _far_ too long than what she expected.

“You saw my room, it’s like no one ever stepped foot in there,” Jisu replies after a short while, following her into the house. It had weird wallpaper, but Jisu liked it. The walls were full of framed photos even if the lighting was dim, and the furniture seemed like it had seen decades of life. The first one she saw was Ryujin’s family photo.

Ryujin huffs, placing down the two bags they had brought. When she dusts off her hands, she notices Jisu’s very focused stare. “We used to be a big family, the ones that did Christmas cards and everything.” Ryujin glances down at Jisu’s clasped hands, then back up again to her blank expression. She smiles as her eyes tear away from the picture as she heads towards her bags.

“Upstairs, right?” Jisu asks, a foot already on the stairs.

Ryujin expected silence, but not the awkward, painful kind. Not the silence dropped on you like a cartoon anvil. She knew Jisu wasn’t easy to open up to, but she always knew well enough a lack of a subtle insult called for some attention. Jisu spares her no attention as she spots the room; a blank desk, a bed, a wardrobe and nothing else. 

“Just like home, right?” Ryujin quips, standing in the doorway. 

Jisu exhales, pivoting on her heel towards her direction, “Yeah, you’re right for once.”

 _There it is,_ Ryujin thinks, and naturally a smile forms on her face, her eyes practically rolling themselves. “Like I missed this, you’re not gonna stop, are you?”

“I find no reason to. Any more questions?”

“No, I’ll let you take a rest. You look tired.”

Not even an hour passes by when Jisu finds herself shifting through her bags, laying everything out on the floor in an orderly fashion. No, she really didn’t have much but she had what she needed, and _no_ , she can’t be still, not when her thoughts are jumbled around in her head.

“Are you still up?” comes from somewhere, and Jisu looks around. No Ryujin at the doorway, no one at the window.

“Are these walls really thin or are you somehow inside my head?” Jisu throws the statement out, trying to find the source of the voice, until a hole she didn’t notice next to the door catches her attention.

“None of that,” Ryjin responds, “My sister and I used to talk to each other and send each other stuff through this tunnel in the wall. I accidentally made a hole there one day and we decided to make the most of it.”

Jisu finds herself off her bed, sitting down against the wall. “So I’m talking to thin air now?”

“Well, maybe it’s easier to talk when you can’t see a face. I know my sister hated talking about serious stuff when she had to stare at me, like I’d burst out laughing or something,” Jisu can feel when Ryujin sits against the wall too, “and well, maybe you won’t be so harsh.”

Jisu grins, half thankful that Ryujin doesn’t get to see, half annoyed Ryujin is right. “So, why’d you ask me if I was awake?”

“I get bored, really easily, usually I’m at Yuna’s house for movie night but, I didn’t want to leave you unaccompanied. And I’ve been meaning to ask about your power. Just out of curiosity.”

“I could get used to talking to you through a wall, you know,” Jisu says, not entirely opposed to the idea, “but, sure. Shoot.”

“What’s the worst thing about it?”

She expected a silly question, and Jisu can’t admit she’s pleasantly surprised.

“I hate hearing things I’m not supposed to, I hate seeing things I shouldn’t be able to see. Not only that, but if I’m physically weak and attempt to teleport, I’ll risk my body overexerting itself.”

“So death?” Ryujin thinks for a while before she answers.

Jisu laughs. “Yes, that. That’s why, honestly, I’m not very good at fighting either. When I do, or when I’m allowed to, I normally rely on tripping them up by manipulating them. They don’t let me on missions, only the safe ones. Like gathering people we know have powers.”

Ryujin lets her speak.

“They say it takes a toll on my mind, the people that experiment at the facility, I mean. They say I can’t be rational in a fight. Everyone I meet, sometimes through their thoughts I can see their future. I can’t help it, obviously, but they say I’d constantly be worrying about the future instead of what was happening. Like, if I knew the way someone died, they were afraid I’d get too focused on them instead of myself.”

She raises a brow quizzically. “Why don’t they help you?”

“Believe me, they’ve tried everything. But when emotions are involved, it gets difficult. That’s why they plan ahead and try to prevent it. Naturally, it would ruin the way the world works. People are meant to die; they’re supposed to go when it’s time. I’ve always known when I was supposed to die, but that doesn’t apply to me. I’ve watched people die, I’ve anticipated it, I knew the exact moment every time, yet I couldn’t look away. If I saved myself from my own death, I’d just put everyone else in danger.”

There’s a short silence before she continues. “What would you do if you knew you had to let someone go, Ryujin?”

She doesn’t have an answer. In fact, she’s never really thought about it. The whole dying thing. When she learned about the existence of superpowers, she thought that immediately ruled out being in danger, that you’d be able to keep yourself and others safe, but the reality is far from it.

Ryujin waits for a beat, but a knock on the door beats her to it. She’s half-relieved, half-curious. Jisu stares for a second before following, taking note of what she heard (involuntarily, that is, sometimes when it’s quiet and there’s just her and another person, a room is never truly quiet with their thoughts). When they both rush down, she’s greeted by Yeji and Chaeryeong. 

“Where’s your sister?” Yeji asks first, letting herself into the house. 

“Night shift at the store, she won’t be home until early morning,” Ryujin fumbles as they both jostle past her in some sort of haste, heading straight for the window, “why, what’s wrong? Why are you here so late?”

“She’s being paranoid again,” Jisu says from the stairs, “Yeji always does this when she’s scared, because she doesn’t like admitting she’s scared in the first place.”

“First of all, _not_ scared, and second, where’s Yuna?”

Chaeryeong looks down at her watch, her hand on the door, “I called her on the way here. She should be here around about… now.”

Partially thanks to her reflexes, Ryujin manages to catch the speeding Yuna that comes hurtling through the door, only barely managing to keep both of them on their two feet. When she regains her composure, no one decides to comment on the sparks of electricity currently bouncing off of her, or the ashy trail left on the floor that Ryujin knows she’ll have to make an excuse for later on. 

Yeji, too, regains her composure before speaking. “It’s bad, I can _feel_ something bad.”

Jisu’s expression suddenly turns serious, though she still laughs at the comment. “Are you sure this time?” she adds, counting a few seconds in her head like she does whenever she senses Yeji about to go into a meltdown, “and I’m genuinely concerned, before you accuse me of a million things.”

As Yeji grumbles a few things under her breath, her glare glued onto Jisu, she continues, “ _As I was saying_ , when Chaeryeong and I went out to get something to eat, someone was following us, watching us. We barely made it back here, no thanks to her,” Chaeryeong glares, but holds her tongue, “It was odd. Not scary, but someone’s definitely looking out for us.”

Jisu shakes her head, leaning against the bannister. “Look, we’re teenagers that got a little lucky, and some of us know how to fight a little. Maybe it was just some weirdo, it was probably nothing... I mean, we _just_ got here.”

“Wait, what was the guy wearing?” Yuna asks, the conversation suddenly having her attention.

“He was wearing all black, sunglasses…” Chaeryeong taps her pockets before pulling out her phone with a very blurry motion shot of a figure, “like that.”

“I can see a total of four pixels,” Jisu scoffs. “Are you sure you’re not just being paranoid?”

Yuna hums, tilting her head. “Well, when Chaeryeong called me and I left my house, I saw someone wearing the same things sitting on the side of the road. Though, he probably couldn’t keep up, so whoever they are, they don’t know where I went.”

If Jisu liked alcohol, in some alternate universe, she’d be drinking right this second, trying to fight off this emerging headache. Ryujin lets herself have a moment to take it in. “So… we’re being followed, or something?”

“Not to scare anyone, but the possibility is never zero,” Yeji stands up this time, completely stiff, “I know Jisu said we’re just teenagers that got a little lucky, but not everyone uses their powers for good like we do.”

“So, what are you saying?” Yuna asks cautiously, visibly more worried than the other girls.

Jisu sighs, rubbing her temple at the sudden rush of negative thoughts filling her head. “That we need to be careful.” 

A moment after they let it sink in, there’s another knock on the door.

**Author's Note:**

> [ im here sometimes ](https://twitter.com/cdnmes)


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